no that's not what a pot lid is for, oh Kaladin, no
by Glistening Cerulean Eyes
Summary: Stormlight Archive AU where everything is the same but Syl can only change into seemingly harmless kitchen utensils.


The Stormfather was displeased with many humans, one in particular, but there were some unique individuals who caught his attention. Mr. Numuhukumakiaki'aialunamor was one of these. He was so polite to the Stormfather's beloved daughter, giving her the respect that she properly deserved. The Stormfather decided that this sort of behaviour needed to be encouraged, and the behaviour exhibited by _certain individuals_, who were not worthy to be named, deterred.

And so the Stormfather granted Numuhukumakiaki'aialunamor a boon. He did not actually tell him about this boon, because that would involve talking to mortals. The Stormfather had to do that far too often these days.

Kaladin wasn't exactly sure how it happened, but one minute he had been facing the Voidbringers with an enormous Shardspear and then he had been facing them with an eggbeater.

"Syl!" he yelled, beginning a very hasty retreat. "What are you _doing_?"

"I don't know!" said Syl. She sounded confused. "I didn't mean to be an eggbeater!"

"Well turn _back into a spear_!" Kaladin cried, lashing himself into the air to avoid the encroaching Voidbringers.

"I can't!" Syl responded desperately. "It's like my forms are jammed. I can turn into… a melon baller or a really big ladle and that's about it at the moment!"

"But _I _want you to be a spear, isn't that how this works?"  
"I think I'm responding to someone else's wishes?" she said nervously. Her shape fuzzed into a ladle momentarily. She was right, it was a massive ladle.

"Why would someone even need a ladle this big?!" Kaladin yelled in frustration. He hefted it belligerently, and then paused. "Although…"

"Yes?"

"It is a very big ladle. A big, heavy ladle." He Lashed himself back down and began to fall towards earth. Despite his anger at the enormity of the ladle he was willing to see how it might work.

"Sir, we have a situation."

"What is it, soldier?" Dalinar had been scanning diagrams of troop movements. The messenger looked quite uncomfortable.

"It's… Kaladin, sir."

"What's happened?" Dalinar asked. He appreciated Kaladin Stormblessed's value as a soldier, but he was beginning to realise that the 'stormblessed' part came with a significant dose of collateral damage.

"He's still fighting off the Voidbringers, sir. It's just…" the man began shuffling his feet. "He's fighting them off with a colander, sir."

"A… colander? That's what they use to drain pasta, right?" Dalinar never spent longer in a kitchen than he had to.

"Yes, but it's not just that. Every few minutes his weapon changes and he shoots off into the clouds, then comes back down and starts killing with it. But it's always something really strange?" The man's shuffling feet were now so desperate it looked like he was doing a two-step.

"Strange like what?" Dalinar asked. He got to his feet. "It sounds like something has gone wrong."

"Have you ever heard of melons, sir? They're a fruit imported from Shinovar."

"I think so," Dalinar said. He was out of his depth. Maybe he needed to talk to more cooks.

"Well, Kaladin has proved you can kill a Voidbringer with a melon baller, sir. It's a thing with a little scoop at the end and I've been told that you use it on a melon and it makes it into little balls somehow."

"Why?" Dalinar asked.

"I have no idea, sir," the man said. "But it's very effective at killing Voidbringers, sir."

Dalinar stuck his head outside his tent and yelled for Gallant.

As they approached the battlefield, they could hear, above all the cacophony of war, "What am I supposed to do with a _pot lid_, Syl?"

"I don't _know_! Have you ever played discus?"

The streak of light that fell down to earth and started obliterating Voidbringers must have been Kaladin, so Dalinar rode towards it. He didn't like using a sword after decades of using a Shardblade, but it did the job of clearing the way. He was forced to duck as a glowing pot lid flew over his head, easily decapitating the Voidbringer behind him. It evaporated. Ten metres away, Kaladin found he had just summoned himself a Shardwhisk.

"A _whisk_? What can we do with this? _I need somebody to blame_!" Kaladin yelled, whisking a Voidbringer to death. The whisk became a pair of tongs.

"Stormblessed!" yelled Dalinar. "What's going on?"

"Sir!" Kaladin would have saluted, but he was parrying a Voidbringer's weapon with a pair of tongs. "My Shardblade is acting erratically, sir!" He snapped the tongs threateningly in the enemy's direction.

"We need to get you out of here, soldier. This is too dangerous to risk." Dalinar yelled over the sounds of combat. Kaladin looked extremely reluctant to withdraw, but knew he couldn't oppose a direct order. He shot over to Dalinar, glowing grumpily.

"Let's go figure this out in the safety of the warcamp," Dalinar said.

"I can't leave my men," Kaladin began, but Dalinar hushed him.

"Do you really want them to see their leader yelling about whisks?" he asked sceptically.

"Maybe not," Kaladin admitted. He looked down at the potato peeler he currently held. "Definitely not."

Dalinar thumped his sword down on a rough wooden table in the stables and watched the groom lead Gallant away to be cared for. He still wasn't sure how Gallant felt about travelling through the Oathgate. He turned to Kaladin, rubbing his jaw and frowning.

"So what happened out there, son?"

"Exactly what you saw, sir. Syl had no control over what she could transform into. She was only able to transform into harmless kitchen utensils," Kaladin replied with a sour expression.

"_Seemingly_ harmless kitchen utensils," Dalinar corrected.

"Thank you, sir. I can make pretty much anything into a weapon," Kaladin said. He managed to sound grim and sheepish at the same time.

"And she doesn't have any idea what's going on?"

"None," said Kaladin's Shardspork. "I'm drawing blanks."

Dalinar raised an eyebrow dryly as Kaladin's stomach audibly growled. "Perhaps we should discuss this over dinner," he suggested.

"That would be good, sir," Kaladin said. He frowned. "Although I don't know if you'll enjoy eating in my camp-"

"It'll be fine," said Dalinar.

"The _Blackthorn_ is in our _camp_," said Lopen excitedly, waving his left hand in front of Sigzil's face.

"Calm down."

"Not a chance, Sig! This is a _big deal_ and I'm _going_ to be excited. It's the storming _Blackthorn_! The guy's a living legend!"

Kaladin sat on the other side of the campfire and restrained himself from burying his face in his hands. He'd been fretting about the state of the "camp"- it was probably more technically a wing- for the whole walk over, and sure enough there was laundry flapping feebly on lines across the balcony. The men would be too excited to behave themselves properly. And the stew, although delicious, would not be up to a Highprince's standards. He thought Dalinar was taking the mess, the excitement, and the rampant hero-worship from Lopen's side of the fire astonishingly well.

"More stew?" Rock asked, ladle held at the ready. Dalinar offered his bowl. Kaladin did the same, though he had to wait as Rock bowed respectfully to the pocket in which Kaladin currently carried a frustrated spoon.

"What's in this?" Kaladin asked, inspecting the stew.

"No shells," Rock said. "Tuber, some chull meat, melon…" he shrugged. "Baby food for you lowlanders."

"You're addressing the commander of the Alethi armies," Kaladin hissed, jerking his thumb towards Dalinar.

"He is still a lowlander," said Rock pleasantly.

"Melon?" Dalinar asked suddenly. "Like… the Shin fruit?"

"I found a cheap shipment of them this morning," said Rock. "It was a pity I had no melon baller." At that moment, Syl flowed amorphously into a melon baller. Kaladin gave a surprised grunt.

"Oh, what a skill!" Rock exclaimed, inclining his head. "I wonder where you were when I was making this stew, eh?"

Kaladin narrowed his eyes suspiciously and glanced at Dalinar. Storms, that man had an intimidating face.

"Rock, what's the process for preparing the tubers?" Kaladin asked, trying to sound casual. Rock frowned good naturedly.

"Well, you lowlanders do not like tasty food, so I peeled the skin off first to get rid of all the flavour!" He laughed.

"And what would one of these peelers look like, soldier?" Dalinar asked. Rock frowned, but Kaladin couldn't tell if it was a frown of confusion or displeasure at being called a soldier. He rose from the fireside and went to his utensil drawers,

"Like this, Rock?" Kaladin asked, pulling Syl from his front pocket. She had metamorphosed into a glistening, perfectly sharpened tuber peeler. Rock turned and looked quite pleased.

"Yes! That is a very good peeler. Mine is a little rusty. You should have helped me make this stew, eh?"

"Well, I would have, but Syl and I were busy fighting Parshendi on the Plains," Kaladin huffed. After a short moment he had a spark of inspiration. "Rock can you imagine a kitchen utensil you'd really like to have?"

"Ah yes, in the mountains there are very strong little critters that live under rocks in the glacial waterfalls. Their shells are so strong that not even the biggest highlander can crack their shells with their hands, so to eat them we have to crack them open first. They would break all our teeth if we did not, hah! Their meat is a delicacy in my home and their shells make our bones strong. I left my shell cracker behind when I came to the lowlands, and it could be very helpful when I have to take the shells off things for your delicate lowlander stomachs." The peeler in Kaladin's hand shifted into an unfamiliar gadget that seemed to consist of some sort of clamp, drill and forceps. Rock's eyes widened in delight.

"This is it! This is the shell cracker!" he cried jovially. Kaladin scrubbed his face with both hands, looking frustrated.  
"So we know what's happening, but we don't know how or why." Kaladin summarised. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I don't know what's going on at all, gancho. What's the issue?" Lopen interrupted, having edged his way around the campfire to be a part of their group. He was followed by an intrigued looking Sigzil.

"Rock thinks of a kitchen utensil, Syl becomes that kitchen utensil," Kaladin said. "For reasons hitherto unexplainable."

"Navani might know what to do," Dalinar said, resting his chin on his hand. "Maybe I should ask her."

"Does it just work for Rock?" Lopen asked, scrunching up his face. "I'll imagine her as a spatula." The shell cracker that was Syl remained a shell cracker.

"And when did this happen?" Sigzil asked.

"Today, during the battle," Kaladin said. "One minute I was holding a spear. The next minute, an egg beater."

"Egg?" One of the other bridgemen asked, before a hushed voice reminded him that chickens made them.

"_Dad_," Syl said suddenly.

"Yes?" asked Dalinar. Kaladin looked at him strangely.

"The Stormfather, silly," she said. "I bet he knows what's wrong."

Dalinar's expression became even more intimidating. "You think so?"

Syl shrugged. "It's likely. But we'd probably have to wait for the next highstorm to ask him."

"No, we won't," said Dalinar. He got to his feet. He cracked his knuckles with a grim expression. He took a deep breath and yelled " Stormfather, I need to speak with you!"

When no response came, Dalinar's face grew stormy and he bellowed "YOUNG MAN IF YOU DON'T GET OUT OF THE COGNITIVE REALM _RIGHT NOW_ AND SPEAK TO ME THEN YOU'RE GOING TO BE IN SERIOUS TROUBLE."

A small tornado slowly manifested in the air around them, sulkily spinning over to Dalinar.

"What?" asked the tornado in an annoyed- but still booming- voice.

"Did you have anything to do with Sylphrena's problem?" Dalinar asked. The tornado managed to look defiant.

"I don't know. What's her problem?" the Stormfather asked with uncharacteristic indifference. The tornado cringed away a little from Dalinar's intensely stony expression.

"Kaladin and Sylphrena don't seem to be linked in the same way that they used to be. She can only turn into things that this man here thinks about." Dalinar explained, gesturing to Rocke.

"What's wrong with that?" The Stormfather challenged testily. Dalinar raised an eyebrow at him. The tornado wavered in place. It wasn't long before the cognitive shadow lost the silent battle of wills. "Okay FINE," the Stormfather admitted. "I might have granted Numuhukumakiaki'aialunamor a boon." Half the listening soldiers started trying to say 'Numuhukumakiaki'aialunamor' under their breath.

"What sort of boon?" The Stormfather muttered something. "You can tell me," Dalinar said patiently. He'd raised two sons who were the most eligible bachelors in Alethkar and managed to keep their heads in- mostly. He wouldn't give in to a stuck up cloud, even if it had a human face sometimes.

"I won't," muttered the Stormfather.

"You storming well _will_."

"You can't curse at me in my own name!" The Stormfather petulantly growled.

"Stormfather, you don't have to fight me on this; I'm just trying to figure out why my most talented soldier is suddenly at the whim of an army cook." Dalinar snapped tersely. Rock pursed his lips slightly in protest, but otherwise stood with confident dignity and gave no indication of offense.

"Please, Brightlord Dalinar, I do not wish to offend the Uli'tekanaki," Rock said, inclining his head to the Stormfather's mini tornado. No one in the room outside their small group could see the spren, but they were all quite used to Rock paying obeisance to the air around Kaladin, so no one questioned very much.

"That's what I mean," the Stormfather sniffed disdainfully to Dalinar. "He shows proper respect due to powerful spren. That one" he sneered in Kaladin's direction, "takes my daughter's favour for granted, as he has demonstrated to near catastrophic results."

Kaladin flushed and looked at the ground, mulling on the painful memories of his foolishness.

"I thought that Numuhukumakiaki'aialunamor should be rewarded for the respect that is so _lacking_ in those who should feel the most honoured. Numuhukumakiaki'aialunamor has control over Sylphrena's form shifting, the benefits of a Shard becoming his."

Syl had given up existing as a Shard when the conversation had begun, instead taking the form of a translucent rain cloud. The cloud had grown larger and more violent as the Stormfather spoke, flashing with indignant lighting and pelting Kaladin's shoulder with rain that vanished just before it hit the fabric of his dirty Kholin uniform jacket.

"I'm _pretty sure_ we've talked about this, father," Syl fumed, cutting off Kaladin and Dalinar before they had a chance to say anything. Dalinar could respect the Stormfather's dadly instincts, but the children had to leave the nest sometime. Kaladin's jaw was working furiously so it looked like he was literally chewing his words.

"I just wanted you to be treated the way you deserve to be treated. You are my precious daughter!" The tornado addressed desperately to the storm cloud, which seemed to be looking away from it.

"Kaladin has done nothing wrong! He deserves his birthright as a Radiant. As for Rock, I like the way he treats me but I didn't choose him! I never even made the decision to let him see me, he was born with the ability," Syl the storm cloud drifted over to the tornado, which met her in the middle of the space that separated them. "I don't like showing myself to many people, why would I like being a tool for them? I know you feel the same way."

The tornado managed to look ashamed and seemed to flush a deeper grey.

Dalinar raised an eyebrow at the two tiny transparent forces of mass destruction and cleared his throat. Lopen and Sigzil shared a wide-eyed bemused glance; Rock looked deep in thought, reverently averting his eyes. Surprisingly, Kaladin's anger had cleared, to be replaced with a look of vaguely reluctant understanding.

"It seems that we all have a lot to learn about each other, spren and man alike," Dalinar spoke into the cautious silence. "We're unused to a society where we interact with each other, so I think the best thing is for all of us to give everyone a chance to adjust."

The tornado suddenly disappeared with a tiny 'pop'. Kaladin's chagrined expression came rushing back, but he was shortly distracted as Syl's form shifted into a large Shardspear just above his head, nearly concussing him.

"Syl!" he exclaimed, delighted. Lopen whooped excitedly while the other bridgeman clapped and cheered politely. Dalinar looked towards the door and stood from his chair.

"I think the Stormfather and I might want to discuss parenting techniques," he said, making his exit and nodding briefly as all the bridgemen stood to attention.


End file.
